The Hoarder
by deowai
Summary: Eli thought he had it bad. But, when Clare leaves him and he reverts back to his hoarding ways, will he try to get her back, or discover a new friend in a girl who seems just as crazy as he is? Eclare -or- Another mix? Find out! First story, R&R please!
1. Realization

**A/N: Hey guys, sorry it's so short. I have a lot of it written out, but I'm spacing it out a bit to make sure the momentum continues. Later chapters will be longer. Thanks so much for reading and please hit the review button, as this is my first fic, and I'm not sure whether or not I should bother to continue.**

**~Deowai**

**Eli's POV**

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She was out the door before I realized what had happened. So there she went. Back to K.C. or Declan or whoever she had, for some reason, decided she liked more than me. My guess was K.C.. He'd broken up with his girlfriend again. The pregnant one…Jessica? Jasmine? Whatever. I'd never really talked to her before, anyway. I found myself wondering how long Clare had been with him before she had been guilty enough to tell me.

How could Clare leave me for K.C., anyway? Sure, they had some kind of romantic past, but he was obviously not right for her, what with getting a girl pregnant and all. Clare wouldn't have just gone to seek him out. Something must have happened in the heat of the moment, and I guess she had never gone back to liking me after that.

I thought she had understood what I was going through! I was her rock! She had needed me through her parent's divorce, and I had been there! And she…she was mine. I hated to admit how much I needed her, but it was undeniable. I surveyed my room. There were small patches of floor here and there that had been completely covered for the past year or so. She had been over every few days to help clean up. How could she have left?

I was still thinking clearly, though very numb from the suddenness of it all, when it hit. I was overcome with a ferocity that only overtook me when I could turn to no other source for help. I was a boat that had been released from its pier. My rock had left me. Just like Julia had left me. I was all alone. Waves crashed over me as a storm began to form around me. Again and again. They wouldn't stop. The boat capsized and I was drowning, going deeper and deeper into the water, surrounded by loneliness and despair. The edges of my vision blurred. I was running out of breath and the last remnants of light from the inside of my room disappeared as I was pushed under by the power of the waves. Everything went black.


	2. The Pick

**A/N: Here you go...R&R please!**

**~Deowai**

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It was some time later before I resurfaced. Within that time, my room had changed. The fervor that overtook my mind subsided and I surveyed the damage to my carefully categorized piles of 'trash' – at least, what others would call trash. To me, every item had meaning, even those plastic forks and napkins I had saved from a party sometime. But, now it was different.

The piles had shifted. I had spent all of last month organizing them by date, but I seemed to have had a different focus this time. Instead of hundreds of small piles for each day of each week, there were 20 or so larger ones organized by how I felt about the objects within them.

Although I could've spent a few hours looking through them all, I felt myself looking at the two tallest that were closest to me. One of them was filled with the things that made me happy, and the other was reaching the ceiling with things that made me feel sad. Curiously enough, gum wrappers were in that pile. I guess I was annoyed that I felt as though I couldn't chew gum, or else my piles would get even bigger. But even more curious was the item in my hand.

It was an old watch. It was Cla – it **used** to be Clare's. Now it was mine. I was holding it out as if I had been about to put it in a pile, then stopped, confused. That's probably why I woke up. Even my subconscious mind knew that I needed to sort out this particular feeling.

The watch was still slightly warm from being in my hand for so long. Even the rounded edges were etched into my hand, which was clasped around the clock tightly. I wondered how long my mind had mulled over where to put it. I put it gently to my heart. There was no denying the fact that I wasn't over Clare. That it would take me months, possibly even longer, to get over her. I had counted on her to help me. Too much, I realized.

"Nice going, Eli," I whispered to myself chidingly. "Way to protect yourself in case she was another Julia." My only solace was that I didn't deserve to be happy, anyway, after killing Julia like that. Still, I had hoped for another chance. I guess it was just another joke on me. I had trusted her. That was my problem. Trust. I had trusted her with my heart, my mind, and…my guitar pick necklace. The one I had gotten at a concert with Julia. It had been a sort of sign that I was getting better at my hoarding tendencies. I guess that was shot to hell now.

I sat up straight, horrified. The trembling began in my fingers. It continued through my veins to my heart, which thumped rapidly. Then, to my brain. The need I had slowly grown accustomed to after Julia's death came back with a vengeance. I had to get my pick back. I had to get everything I had thrown away back. Soon. Or someone would die and leave me forever. Clare would die.

I sank back into my mind, panic seeping through the cracks of my mental stability.


	3. Yelling at the Steering Wheel

**A/N: Let me take this time to thank my reviewers. Thank you Alyssa and MadameCyanide**

**I would additionally like to take this time to say that...(Dramatic pause and a gasp)...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi. I also did not own it in the previous chapter, or the chapter before that. So, don't sue me because I would be very very poor. And sad.**

**Ohhhhkay. Please enjoy the following chapter and -tell me if you like it!- Just a few seconds is all you need to quickly click that button down there and boost my self-confidence, or tell me why you hate my story. Just joking about both options. But...not really. So click.**

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I was in my car. I don't know how I got there, but I was there. So, I just accepted it and got out my keys to turn it on. I looked around for the first time and realized that it was morning the day after Clare had…left. With my pick. If I didn't get it back…I pushed the thought out of my head. I would get the pick back, and then Clare would be okay. Maybe not with me – my heart stopped for a moment and I concentrated back onto Clare – but okay.

I continued to circle the same thoughts through my mind as I turned on the car and began to drive. I would get to her house soon enough. I didn't really care what happened that point, so long as I got the guitar pick back. Then, if I could get back all my other things from the dump, all would be well.

With my goals in mind, I found myself at Clare's house. That was fast. In my state, I sincerely hoped Morty hadn't sustained any damage form my distracted driving. I couldn't even remember the route I'd taken to get here. I looked at the time. A whole hour of driving had gone by. It usually only takes ten minutes or so to get here, so what kind of drive did I go on? I shrugged. It was no use worrying about that now.

I locked Morty and sprinted up to the door. I rang the bell and waited, tapping my foot and finger in impatience. My brow was furrowed and I could feel my mind sinking into itself little by little as I neared my goal. The few seconds that passed seemed like a century. I knocked on the door over and over and over. Finally, the door swung open and I was completely distracted by the person standing there. It was K.C. Guthrie.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I demanded sharply. It was all I could say to the cause of my misfortunes. I suppose it was a little unfair to say that, since I didn't even know of his existence when Julia died, but that didn't stop me from glaring at him.

The idiot looked a little sheepish at first, as if he was embarrassed to be speaking to the ex-boyfriend of the girl he had stolen. He and that pregnant girl made a good pair – Clare had told me that she had stolen him in the first place, and thieves should be with like, should they not? Anyway, he should be embarrassed. His stupid little beanie sat dully on his head as messy hair poured out of the sides. What a slob.

"I should say the same to you," he replied, trying to act tough. His wimpy looking feature, slowly changing expression of mixed surprise and a little fear, and his slow, dumb speech didn't help his attempt. He also tried to stare at me menacingly, but ended up looking as though he was going to have a tantrum because his mom wouldn't let him play with a new toy. I stared impassively back at the boy. K.C. looked away first and I pushed past him. Was I angry? Hell yes. But, at the moment, I was more concerned about saving Clare's life. I ran to her room and swung open the door.

There she was, her back towards me, looking as flawless as ever. My heart ached, but I had more important things to do. I surveyed the room, looking for the guitar pick. That's when she began to speak, still facing the other direction with those beautiful locks framing her face. I couldn't see her face, but I could imagine it.

"Hey K.C., who was it?" She said in the voice that melted my insides every time. But I was on a mission. Right.

"Where's the guitar pick?" I asked calmly. I was still in my own head, luckily. Clare whirled around, startled.

"Eli!" She gasped.

"Clare, give me back the guitar pick," I said more urgently. She looked at me blankly, still a little shocked.

"You know…the…guitar…pick. I…gave it…to you." My breath was coming in little gasps now as panic rose within me and the room started to spin. If she had lost it…"Give…it…BACK!" I screamed the last word, startling Clare out of her silence.

She took a few feeble steps towards me until she was in front of me. "I'm sorry," she whispered. Then she hugged me and continued to repeat the phrase under her breath. I was so out of my mind by that time that I didn't even register the fact that the girl that I still lov–liked was hugging me.

"I shouldn't have done it so abruptly, I know. It's just…I felt so guilty for liking K.C. and still being with you. It just seemed wrong," she continued. Well, it was wrong! Which is why you need to break it off with K.C.! Not me! I was shouting at her in my head.

"Are you okay?" She asked quietly. She continued the hug.

Hell no I was not okay! Why the hell would she think I was okay? "Yes, I'm fine." Emotion built up inside me and I just couldn't take it anymore. But, it wasn't any emotion for Clare, unless saving her life counted, and I guess it did. "Give. Me. The pick," I said firmly, pulling away from the hug. It wasn't a controlled firmly or a confident firmly. It was an 'I will go crazy if you don't just bring it now' kind of firmly.

Clare looked at me with big, blue, sad and concerned eyes. I couldn't take those kind of pitying looks. They enraged me. Especially since I could see that her eyes were no longer loving eyes. She was over me, while I was so infatuated with her that I couldn't even look at her without feeling pain and couldn't even be angry at her for cheating. The sooner I got out of here with my necklace, the better.

Clare left for a minute and returned with the pick. I took it quickly and left without a word. She said something as I exited her room, but I didn't catch it. Probably better that way. I looked back – I loved her too much to care how pathetic that was – and then continued in a rage of anger at them both, but mostly K.C. I didn't bother to look where I was going as I walked to Morty.

The worst part of it all was that it was only noon on a Saturday. I still had hours until the day was over. She'd broken up with me Friday night, and had K.C. at her house by lunch the next day. Who the hell did that kind of thing? And now I had today and tomorrow without busy work at school to distract me. Just hours and hours of thinking about the breakup and about Clare. Great. At least blacking out twice had killed some time. My mission helped too, but it still sucked.

As the anger increased within me, I found myself yelling at my steering wheel, using the words I had hidden form Clare. I was losing control. Sinking into my mind. I obsessively remembered that I needed to get everything I had thrown away, or Clare would die. How many times did I need to remind myself of that? She didn't deserve to die, though, even if she had ripped my heart to pieces.

My thoughts spun around rapidly as I drove. I was obviously going crazy. That was my last thought before I zoned out into sweet oblivion, letting my body do the driving. What was the point?

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**Wow lookie there! A button. Don't you like clicking buttons? Go on, try it! Yes, I know, I am obnoxious. This is the only chapter I'll be this obnoxious, I promise.**


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